


No Laughing Matter

by Scottie



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-17 14:48:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1391647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scottie/pseuds/Scottie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It might have been the way his fingers pounded at the keys without any remorse, without any hesitance or delicacy that made his heart beat the way it did. Thump, thump, thump. Breathe. The strength he put into his work, the firmness and the passion. It was more than Medic could ever imagine from Spy. Every pause and every flutter was fluid and full of life. No one could take this away from Spy. He had the keys to the kingdom and Medic was desperate to find a way into that paradise. Dawn and doom was in the windows. It called him to come and gaze into the mystery of it. And Medic, like a thief slipped through it, opening the golden latch and sneaking inside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What a Spy

“Hey, nurse,” greeted the Sniper with a wide grin. He crossed the floor and kicked away the saw from the Medic’s hand, the doctor’s red rubber glove doing only so much to cushion the blow of the crushing heel. “Stupid o’ ya ta come ‘ere by yourself,” he said with a shrug, fixing his blue shirt. The Medic scoffed. “And it will be even more stupid if I let a sniper kill me,” he retorted sharply. The sniper laughed, pulling out his kukri with a tip of his brown hat.

“You’ve got guts, I’ve got to hand it to you.” Sniper pointed the blade at the Medic. “But I think it’s time to return to your own teammates.” Medic saw his reflection in its paleness, clean and sharp. His hair was a mess and he was missing his glasses. He couldn’t die like this. It was far too embarrassing. The blade rose above Medic’s head and the Sniped nodded to him. “G’day,” he said. Medic smiled.

The strike never came. It never came because the Sniper was killed. One quick and clean back stab was all it took to have him keel over and fall down beside the medic, the light leaving his eyes quickly behind his broken shades. Medic looked up, watching the Spy straighten his tie and flash him a cheeky smile. “Your hair is messed up.”

“I know.”

“And your glasses are gone.”

“Of course it is.”

They stared at each other then broke out into a soft snorting kind of laughter. “Here,” Spy said, offering his hand to the medic. Medic took it without hesitance and stood up. “You should get back to the others. They’ll need you if they plan to capture the next point,” said the Spy. He checked his watch, lower lip chewed briefly. Medic fixed his hair and squinted at the Frenchman. “Ja, but it would be nice if I could have my glasses.”

“You mean these?”

Medic looked into Spy’s outstretched palm, finding that his glasses were indeed there. He blinked and plucked it from the leather glove. “Ah, yes, thank you Spy,” Medic said and wiped the lenses on his shirt before putting them back on. “Perfect, thank you.” The Spy waved his hand and took a step in the opposite direction of the exit. “You can thank me later. Go before we’re seen. I won’t be able to save you if someone else shows up.” Medic nodded and left quickly just as Spy cloaked and disappeared.

 :i:

“I love you!” declared Demoman, already far gone in their celebration. He held Medic by his shoulders and had a serious case of bad breath. Medic liked Demo too, but not anymore than he liked his other teammates like Heavy. He smiled sheepishly at the Scot and ducked under and away from his arms before he could pull the German into a big hug. “Danke, Demo, but I think Soldier wants a hug more than me and I’d hate to take that away from him.”

“Really?” asked the drunken man, with tears almost at the corners of his eye. “C’mere ye big oaf,” Demo exclaimed the moment Soldier walked into the room, confused and now yelling at Demo to stop hugging him, his helmet on the edge of falling off his head. It tittered dangerously to the side before fully falling off when the two men fell to the floor with a loud clack. It seemed that Soldier had taken this and made it into a wrestling match. Medic chuckled with the rest of everyone. He caught sight of their Spy sitting beside their Sniper in front of the fireplace and thought amusingly that it was a gathering of the support class as he made his way over. Medic took his seat across from Spy who sat on the left of Sniper. The flames left shadows flickering across their faces and if Medic was any old person he would have thought it looked rather ominous but he knew better.

“Ah, Doctuer,” Spy greeted, lifting his eyes to meet Medic’s who nodded to him. Sniper tipped his hat and Medic nodded to him as well, crossing his legs when he sat. “You two going with the others into town tomorrow?” Medic asked in a pleasant, friendly tone. He found it easy to talk with these two. They proved to be fine entertainment. Sniper wasn’t overly talkative, but he spoke enough to be considered sociable just like Spy who could speak more for both Sniper and Medic put together.

“Nah,” Sniper replied, stretching in his seat. “Gonna take the night off ta catch some Zs, ya know.” Medic nodded.

“Possibly,” Spy answered, finger tracing his chin in thought. The vague answer was answer enough that Spy probably wouldn’t come. It seemed he had engagements over their day off. Medic himself? Well, he’d like to go into town and buy a few things unlike some others who only seem to visit the bar when they go into town. There was also a nice bookshop he wanted to visit.

Medic caught Spy looking at him and turned away. The two had never really been close, never really talked unless they were here, with Sniper who seemed to enjoy the company and also the occasional silence. The Frenchman cleared his throat and opened his mouth as if to say something but was interrupted by the strong voice of their Scout popping into their conversation.

“Hey, Snipes!” The Scout called, jogging over. Sniper glanced at the boy and to the amusement of Medic and Spy it looked as if Sniper was hiding his face the way his head dipped down and his hat covered his face. He looked almost as if he was sleeping but of course he was far from it.

“Hey, kid,” Sniper spoke up, his voice low and calming. Scout smiled and bounced on the balls of his feet. “Are you going with the other guys?” The young man asked.

“He’s staying at base, lapin,” replied Spy for him. Scout glared at the Frenchman then looked back at Sniper curiously. “Really?”

“Well, I was but if-“

“Great, you want to hang out?” Asked Scout excitedly. Sniper’s face became even more obscured behind his big hat.

Medic and Spy exchanged a look, very amused.

“Yeah, sure,” Sniper replied, sounding almost sheepish in his response. The Scout gave him a thumbs up and padded away quickly with a joyous bounce in his gait. There was a silence for a short period until Spy began to laugh. Medic, still amused chortled as well.

“Now what, was that?” Spy inquired, brows raised and eyes smiling.

“Herr Sniper, don’t tell us that Scout he..”

Sniper glowered at them. He caved in after a few seconds and gave the two a heavy sigh.

“He admires me,” Sniper sighed.

“More than admire, he has a crush!” Spy cut in, snorting in laughter. Medic smiled lightly, a small worry line creasing across his forehead.

“It’s not a crush!” Sniper replied, exasperated. His eyes were wide behind his glasses and he looked alarmed at the thought that the young man might have a crush on him.

“Come on, mon ami,” Spy chided, “It’s all over his face. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have a crush on him too!” The accusation made Sniper’s eyes widen even more than they were, but the glare of the light against his glasses made it hard to see really and Medic could only guess by the tighten of his jaw that the idea disturbed Sniper more than flattered him.

“Agh, I’m going to bed,” Sniper said and stood up, his tall legs almost tripping him in his haste. Spy chuckled. “I was just playing,” he said, trying to calm Sniper down but it did nothing to pacify the Australian. Medic thought of saying something but watched quietly as Sniper sulked away. Spy laughed softly, shaking his head.

“Silly boys,” he said, leaning back in his chair. Spy watched the retreating back of Sniper. “Why can’t they be honest and just tell each other how they feel?” Medic shrugged.

“Maybe they’re scared,” he offered.

“It’s so obvious, how can they be scared?”

“I don’t know. Isn’t it supposed to be scary?”

Spy shook his head, a quizzical look on his face. Medic watched as Engineer smacked the back of both Soldier and Demoman’s heads and pulled them by the ear until they behaved.

 :i:

Heavy convinced Medic to join him for a drink at the bar with the other guys. Medic didn’t see the harm in it the way Heavy spoke. He was a nice man. Caring, loud, and funny even. Medic liked him. In fact he found everyone in his team likeable to an extent.

When they entered the bar there was a flourish of people. It wasn’t as much of a surprise seeing that it was a Saturday night and mostly the day people have off. Heavy steered Medic to the bartender and sat him down on a stool beside Engineer who smiled at the two and waved. “Howdy boys,” he cheered with good nature, picking up his beer and lifting it to them in a sort of cheer. “Hallo, Herr Engineer,” greeted Medic who ordered a beer as well. Heavy sat beside him with a joyful laugh. “Engineer said he missed Medic.”

Engie laughed, ears a bit pink by the way Heavy made it sound. “I said it been long while since the Doc came and joined us for a drink, Mister.” Heavy laughed. “Da, da.” The conversation made Medic smile. Through the evening crowd Medic could see Demo talking with Soldier and beside them surprisingly was Sniper and Scout. Medic wondered if Scout was old enough to even be in a bar then remembered that he was. The boy was just 22.

Medic’s first beer went by quickly without him noticing as he chatted with Heavy and Engie who were quite witty.

“Could you tell me a lie?”

“Only if I knew the truth.”

Medic laughed and grabbed his second beer, drinking it languidly as the two men continued their friendly banter. Medic liked listening. He wasn’t much of a speaker but he always enjoyed being witness to clever moments. When his eyes had nothing to look at they took to gazing around the bar, the dim light and the warm air filled with the scent of alcohol and perhaps a little spice and vomit. Medic’s gaze fell on the piano sitting lonesome in the corner with surprised eyes. Sitting on the black leather seat was Spy, smiling and laughing with some strangers. Working men with caps and stubbles not caring about their wives for the moment or complaining about their wives or boasting. Spy’s suit jacket was gone and he only wore his white dress shirt, the couple top buttons undone and his sleeves rolled up. His silver watch glinted in the dim light like his pale eyes. His elbows were on his thighs and he was smacking his knee now and then, laughing in a manner Medic had never known Spy could.

Medic was surprised. It was just startling really. Of course Spy had his own things going on. Medic didn’t know him well, but he was truly astonished by such casual behavior from the seemingly formal and gentlemanly Frenchman. Of course he could still be a gentleman and casual but it just was – it was – well it was different from what Medic expected from the spy. He didn’t know what he suspected of the man out of work, but it wasn’t this and it wasn’t Spy turning his back from him to play the piano, and it wasn’t a passionate man either who seemed to genuinely like to play such lively music the way he was now, pounding at the keys with enthusiasm.

Spy’s hands were expressive, the veins showing delicately but the strength there in his playing as his hands quickly moved here and there over the keys. He was pounding out such a lively tune that it made Medic’s foot tap along with it as men began dancing jigs together. Spy’s smile was bright, warm and so human. It was startling to Medic but he was mesmerized and he listened with an eagerness he hadn’t felt since he was a child listening to his first violin concerto.

“You look mighty spooked, Doc,” Engie laughed, catching Medic’s attention. The German’s cheeks colored and he looked down into the green of his beer bottle. Engie’s eyes turned to Spy and he grinned, looking at heavy. “I guess Doc must be surprised. I was surprised too at first. Seeing Spy like that. Ever since the first time he came here and saw that darn piano he’s been playing it like a regular every time we come drinking. The folks like it. I reckon the women too. They just fawn over that guy.” Heavy watched Spy for a moment as well, his expression thoughtful. “Spy is good man. Not very smart though.”

“What do you mean?” Engie and Medic both asked at the same time, the difference in accents sounding a little funny. They chuckled quickly.

“Spy is clever, handsome, but not very smart you know?” Heavy’s brows furrowed and it looked like he had some peanut butter stuck to the roof of his mouth. Medic waited patiently. “He’s oblivious,” Heavy finished, a bit unsatisfied by the word he used but shrugged and continued drinking. Medic looked into his beer as Engie spoke. “Eh, I have yet to see that, but if you say so big guy.”

Medic finished his beer and pulled on his coat that Heavy was holding for him and stood up to leave.

“You sure little doctor be okay?” The burly Russian asked concern all over his face. Medic nodded, patting his friend on the arm.

“Ja, mein friend, I’ll be fine,” Medic reassured.

“I can take Doktor back home,” Heavy insisted. Just before Medic could reassure him again Engie jumped in and did it for him. “He’ll be alright big fella, the Doc knows his limits. I’m sure he’s not even close to being buzzed yet.” Medic wanted to correct him because he was actually feeling warm now, but yes he hadn’t drank nearly enough to even feel the buzz.

With Engineer’s words Heavy’s face smoothed over and he smiled kindly. “Alright, but Medic be careful okay?” Medic smiled and nodded. “Of course.”

“Of course, I’ll be with him.”

They all blinked and turned their heads to the sultry voice. Spy smiled at them, his coat hanging from his arm. “I’m going anyway.”

Heavy eyed Spy suspiciously then slowly nodded. As if it were a triumph and Heavy could change his mind any time, Spy took Medic’s wrist and lead him through the crowd. “Don’t worry Monsieur Heavy, I’ll take good care of your doctuer,” he laughed, hand waving in the air to signal a goodbye and good night.

When they emerged from the bar, outside was pleasantly cold. The snow had settled on the ground and Medic and Spy didn’t put on their coats, cheeks flushed. Medic watched his breath swirl in the darkness of the night. The sky was starless and the night quiet. They stood there under the sky for a moment.

“I’m going to the bookstore, Herr Spy,” Medic said, pulling on his coat. Spy looked at him. “At this hour?” he asked. Medic laughed. “It’s only 9, Spy, the store doesn’t close until 11.” The Frenchman’s nose scrunched and he tucked his jacket under his arm and crosses his arms. “I know that, but why after drinking?”

“Because I want to?”

“Because you want to?”

“Because I want to.”

Spy was satisfied with that answer and began to walk, his shoes making prints over the prints of others in the snow. Medic walked beside him. “I’ll go with you,” Spy said and winked at Medic. They walked in comfortable silence until they reached the store with its bright yellow lights. Spy held open the door for Medic who thanked him.

“What are you looking for?” Spy asked. Medic folded his arms. “Anything,” he said. “I just want to browse.” Spy disappeared into one of the rows of books and Medic ignored him as he grabbed a basket to fill. This store always had nice deals on used and old books. It was a great steal.

By the time Medic was finished filling half of his basket, he had forgotten about Spy until he saw the Frenchman in one of the deep rows where the older and dustier books rested. Medic joined him and asked him if he was ready. The Spy shrugged. “Oui.” In his hand though wasn’t a book but one of those notebooks you buy from near the counter of the shop. Medic looked at it curiously but didn’t ask about it. They paid for their items and Spy helped carry some of Medic’s books.

“Do you really read all of these?” Spy asked.

“When I get the time,” Medic replied, chortling. Spy was impressed but it was Medic’s turn to ask this time.

“What’s that notebook for?”

“For something when I’ve got the time.”

Medic huffed and Spy laughed, bumping his shoulder playfully with his own. “Let’s get home, I’ll show you.”

How could Medic decline? 


	2. A-flat major

Spy’s room was the last one down the hall where the lights were dimmer and no one cared to venture there. Scout was too much of a chicken to even approach. Sometimes the light would flicker just as it was doing now, Medic and Spy standing beneath it briefly as he jostled the door a bit and unlocked it. The handle looked worn and Medic wondered if Spy minded all this, being given the room at the furthest part of the hall with dying lights and jammed door knobs. The light flickered again when Medic stepped inside the dark room.  
  
“Would you like anything to drink?” Spy asked, reaching over to the side to flip the light switch on. Light flooded into the room causing Medic to squint for a second. The first thing that immediately drew his eyes was the piano in left corner of the room, opposite to Spy’s plain queen bed. The room was rather.. plain. Nothing personal seeming or characterizing about it that would tell Medic about the man he was with right now. Though, it wasn’t like he had hoped for it anyway. He was just curious and he found Spy’s lack of lavish taste and decoration to be more surprising than disappointing.  
  
“Yes,” Medic spoke, swallowing dryly. “Water.” Spy set down their things, putting Medic’s book onto the bed and leaving them there as he pulled out the notebook he had just bought. He pinched his nose and made a mocking expression, brows drawn and a nasty smile on his lips. “Water? Mon ami, I bring you to my bedroom and you ask for water?” Medic smiled.  
  
“Yes,” he replied before Spy could go further into his dramatics. “In fact I demand two glasses instead of one.” Spy feigned a look of desperation. “Mon dieu!” he exclaimed, throwing an arm over his face as if to shield himself. “The horror!” Medic couldn’t help the smile blossoming on his lips nor could he keep the snort of laughter from escaping them. Spy gave a nasally laugh and slid onto the piano bench and stretched his arms and wiggled out his fingers. He turned his head and shoulder to look at Medic, a benevolent look in his blue eyes. “Come here, Doctuer. Play me something while I get you that water. Then I’ll show you the secret of my wonderfulness.” Medic snorted dubiously and strode over from the door, taking the seat Spy was patting beside him. Their knees brushed and Medic looked over to Spy who smiled at him. “My, so obedient,” he teased, receiving a harsh smack against his arm. Spy waved his hand and winced in surrender, his shoulders sagging as if in relief.  
  
“How much do you know about piano?” he asked, cerulean eyes raking down the Medic’s relaxed posture with an almost calculating look that was so fleeting Medic didn’t think much about it at the time. Medic’s eyes avoided the well-set figure standing now behind him. “Oh, not much,” he said, pressing a couple of keys casually. “I’ve only ever been taught in violin.” The figure beside him was gone now but he returned shortly with a glass of water in his gloved hand.  
  
“Really?” he asked, surprise painting his voice. Medic thanked him quietly and took the glass. “I would have thought you a pianist.” Medic cringed slightly as if he had heard a vile thing. The sentence  _And I thought you would have had better taste_  lingered dangerously close to speech. Piano never did invoke the same wild passion the violin did in Medic. In a violin Medic felt he was being squeezed into a tight box and he was using every fiber of his being to break free and release the tension that rode on the curves of his shoulders. A violin simulated that within Medic and he found his most passionate of moments while playing it. The low murmur of the G string and the painful trill of the E string quivering against the rosin laced hairs of the bow never failed to send shivers up and down Medic’s spine.  
  
Piano though, well that was a foreign thing to him and though he knew some little songs on it from memory he just wasn't interested. Until now.  
  
The water tasted dusty and Medic gulped it down at a steady pace as Spy took his seat beside him again. When he was done, Spy plucked it from his hands and placed the cup at the foot of the bench, winking at him. “Well, maybe I can teach you. How’s that sound?” Medic wasn't interested in playing. He had been interested in what it meant to Spy and now looking at the paleness of his thin papery lips and the blue eyes shining with such fire enticed him to say yes. “Er, if you insist,” came Medic’s reply, feeling suddenly shifty under the Spy’s gaze.  
  
Spy was voluble now and he expressed such wild delight that it took Medic by surprise by how elated he had become with just one sentence of consent. “Then after dinners, come to my room.” Spy said this in a way that was not up for discussion that held a sort of emotion Medic wasn't familiar with. It piqued his curiosity but of course he hadn't a moment to speak before Spy was talking again, taking the direction of their conversation by the wheel and steering it back to the piano.  
  
“Now, I did say I was going to show you a secret didn’t I?” Spy asked and Medic raised a questionable brow. “Well, I never asked but go on,” he said and Spy’s nose scrunched up with playful hurt just like the rest of his face. “My, so mean,” he murmured and pulled from somewhere Medic could not see another notebook and placed it on the front stand of the piano, flipping it open with practiced ease. The pages were a little worn, sometimes creased and wrinkled but overall taken care of with great diligence. It was obvious by the way the paper was slightly sallow that it was old and well used. Each page was riddled with notes. Songs that could last hours and hours was what Medic saw in the flash of pages.  
  
“You write your own music!” Medic exclaimed with satisfaction. Spy grinned widely and stopped at a composition titled ‘ _Laughter_ ’ elegantly written in French. His eyes read the key signature. 4 flats, A-Flat major. Spy shook out his hands, rolling his wrists and wiggling his fingers. Medic smiled and this did not go unnoticed by the Frenchman. He looked at him with a sly smile that made the skin above Medic’s brow to redden. Medic looked back to the music and dedicated himself to it but his dedication was short-lived and his eyes had an affair with the revealed nature of Spy’s hands. No gloves, everything gone and the boundaries that separated him from other people was nowhere in sight. Medic swallowed.  
  
Skin marred by scars that crisscrossed over his knuckles and palms decorated the pale skin that was hidden behind the glove. Medic’s lowered eyes just barely caught the obscene grin of Spy and he blushed hotly from being caught staring. Though Spy didn’t comment on this and instead found his way back to the music, long hands resting over the keys. “ _I wrote this piece a long time ago, back in Pari_ s,” said Spy in French, playing the first few gentle notes. He knew Medic could speak and read French. He had a way of knowing things about people, being a spy and all. When and how he had acquired this knowledge of Medic’s education in languages he did not know but he assumed that he knew this from observing the books in Medic’s shelf. He had a few books in French and Medic wasn’t the type of man to try to make himself look smart if he wasn't.  
  
 _“Every morning when the sun was just rising I tried to compose this. I tried to capture the feeling of morning. Sometimes I worked on it in the last light of day because the feeling I would get when the world is encrusted with shadow and light was the same during these both times._ ” As Spy spoke, his fingers and hands danced upon the keys with a sort of gentle tenderness that made Medic’s heart ache and he did not feel that same burning heat of embarrassment he had felt before. His eyes fell closed and he breathed in deeply. A sense of calm and nostalgia fell upon him like a soft mist and he found himself lost in the sound. Spy’s voice, his music, it was like that morning in Prague.  
  
“ _But,_ ” Spy murmured, hands stopping. It was gone before the sorrow could settle in Medic and he opened his eyes to find Spy looking at him. He didn't look away and he didn't know why. “ _But_?” Medic found himself repeating quietly. Spy was closer now. Medic could feel his breath on his lips and could see the vivid depth and rings of his eyes. It wasn't until then that he understood what it meant to get lost in a person’s eyes and he felt the breath in him leave without a trace. He was gone though, every trace of him gone as if he was never there in the first place.  
  
“ _I've never finished it_.”  
  
“Never?”  
  
“Never.”  
  
They didn't look at one another, sort of looked to the side and along the bland walls with a thoughtful air around them when Medic began to roll his wrists and stretch out his fingers. Spy watched him, curious. Medic reached out and glanced at the music. He recalled the pleasant sound, the slow beginning and how crisp the morning was. How slow and lazy it could be. But the beauty of the sunrise could not be matched and that was how Medic imagined it. The Spy in his head had looked at the sunrise every morning when writing this piece. He had felt the calm and the sadness it held for this strange world. How little he must have felt but how endless. He recalled with frightening clarity the keys Spy had pressed and how he pressed them and he followed, as if trying to find the same man that had written this music years ago, how he must have toiled and had yearned. It felt almost like a love song and a farewell intertwining into one.  
  
His hands stopped when his memory failed him and his brows furrowed with frustration that soon dissipated when Spy’s hands fell over his, soft and gentle but firm. He placed every finger to Medic’s. Thumbs to thumbs and pinkys to pinkys. His chest pressed against Medic’s shoulder and his arm wrapped around him so that he could place his hand over his with better ease. Medic could feel his breath on his neck and hear how softly he breathed.  
  
Spy’s hands guided Medic’s and he corrected the mistakes that he had made but continued the song past repeat. They continued like this. Medic didn’t know how long they played but it felt both short and long, and when they came to the abrupt end the last note rang with a sobering purity that pulled at Medic’s heart they did not speak. Spy’s heat had seeped into him; his breathing had matched his just like their heartbeats.  
  
It was spy who pulled away first, leaving Medic cold and aching. It seemed like Spy always left when that quiet question posed itself, unfurling and rising into the air like chimney smoke. It was so obvious, so loud and obnoxious yet he chose to ignore it and so in response, Medic did the same.  
  
“Bring your violin tomorrow,” said Spy, his voice betraying rawness. Medic rubbed his arm, as if trying to warm the place Spy had once touched in vain. He stood up and looked at Spy, not even hiding the twinge of bitterness in his voice. His cheeks suffused with color. “I won’t."


End file.
